Turquoise (L.S)

IV

The next week was a blur for Louis. He spent everyday with a vocal coach going over a song that had been selected for him by the production team. And had constant talks with a stylist, who tried her best to convince him to dress more formally. He, of course, refused. Wearing designer suits and restrictive blazers was not Louis, nor did he plan for it to become him in the foreseeable future.

Allegedly, Harry had been on time to every appointment with the other contestants, and whilst Louis was a little bitter that he had not had the opportunity, he was glad that the rockstar was finally doing his job.

It probably wouldn't last.

All of that prep had led up to this moment. He was about to perform in front of all his competitors, and his 'mentor'. He knew that this would determine the rest of his life but he could not help but feel as though he had already destroyed it with his temper and brashness towards Harry.

Straight after leaving the dressing room that day, he had felt pretty pleased with himself. He'd stood up for his follow contestants and knocked Mr Harry Styles down a peg or two. But after a week of reflecting, he'd come to the conclusion that interrupting his mentor had probably been a career-ending mistake.

Louis had debated telling Ashe about the encounter. She was closely becoming what he would deem a friend and throughout the week they had gossiped about almost everything, but this thing with Harry felt private. He was embarrassed that his temper had ruined his chance and he did not want her seeing him in a different light.

Trying to shake the negativity out of his mind, Louis recited the advice his vocal coach had given him. 'relax, don't force the notes, have a good time'. It was all quite simple really, but was so much harder when his whole life rode on this performance.

Or it would have done, if he hadn't burst into Harry's dressing room and taken a drag of his cigarette. Why had he even done that? It was so extra and unnecessary. And then to bring up his mum? He cringed at the thought. There was no chance that the arrogant, spoilt rockstar was going to allow someone as gobby as Louis be a part of his team.

Taking a swig of his water, Louis closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else. But be could not get it out of his mind. He had blown his chances, by letting someone as annoying as Harry Styles under his skin. He tried to blame his Donny rudeness but the truth was, Louis had this inability to take shit from anyone, no matter who they were. This problem had had him suspended from school twice and barred from several pubs in Yorkshire.

"Louis Tomlinson?" The production assistant called out his name and he swallowed, unbuttoning the top button of his Brown Fred Perry polo shirt and brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face.

He walked onto the stage, anxiety coursing through his bones. All of his competitors stared back at him, blank expressions on their faces but his attention wasn't on them. It was on Styles.

The star wore a bright yellow tux and white jabot shirt, his hair cascading down his face, slightly covering his eyes. But Louis did not notice that. All he saw was the knowing smirk, raised eyebrows and folded arms.

It was at this moment Louis knew.

He was not getting through this round.

Catfish and the Bottleman's 7 started blaring through the speakers and he had to make a decision. He could put no effort into this performance; it was pointless anyway. Or he could put on a show. Leave with his head held high. In that moment he chose to go for the latter.

Closing his eyes, he let the lyrics flow out. It was like they were second nature to him, another language that he could speak fluently.

"Larry, call a load of smoke in I wanna lose a couple days. We've probably never struggled coping but I never want to," He could hear a few surprised gasps from the audience and he tried to hide his smirk at the positive response to his voice. It was a sound that he had grown accustomed to over the years, and it always made his heart skip a beat.